Isn't That What Friends Do?
by KMFBRose
Summary: Fushimi and Yata said they were going to talk more. This is how I think it should have gone. Set at the end of Season 2.


**Okay, so this is just a little bit of Fushimi and Yata talking after the craziness of season 2. They never really got to talk again, and this is what I think should've happened. Hope you like it! Feel free to review and I don't own K or any of the characters.**

Yata stepped inside the SCEPTER 4 medical truck, and bit his lip. Munakata was sitting beside the cot, his glasses dangling from his fingers. Yata cleared his throat. The blue captain looked up, and smiled.

"Here to see Fushimi-kun, I presume?" he said softly and Yata nodded. He didn't trust himself not to yell at the pompous king that had gotten his fri - Saruhiko hurt. The king stood, and replaced his glasses. He towered over Yata, looking tired, but still smiling. "Thank you," he whispered softly, and Yata blushed. The king left and Yata shook his head. He didn't need a thank you. He was only doing what was right.

Yata went further into the truck, and came to the side of the cot. He sat down in the seat that the blue king had recently abandoned. Fushimi was asleep. His face was pale, but there were dark circles under his eyes. As per usual. Yata huffed, and leaned forward, slipping Fushimi's glasses off. He set them down on the cot and reached a hand out. He let his fingers brush over Fushimi's hair.

"Why'd you do that? Idiot," he scoffed. At the sound of Yata's voice, Fushimi's eyes blinked open.

"Misaki?" he said quietly. Yata pulled his hand away quickly.

"Yeah, it's me."

Fushimi blinked at him a view times and then he groaned. "I assume you all did your jobs," he huffed, rubbing at his eyes. Yata snorted.

"Of course we did. What, do you not trust us?" he asked. Fushimi shot him a glare.

"Do I trust you?" he asked, then clicked his tongue. "How should I know. I wouldn't exactly use the word "competent" to describe you," he said lazily, staring up at the ceiling. Yata's face turned red.

"Hey! Don't insult HOMRA like that," he snapped and Fushimi rolled his eyes.  
"I wasn't insulting HOMRA," he said, sounding annoyed. "I was insulting you, Mi-sa-ki," he dragged out, but it was softer than it usually sounded. Tired.

"I thought I said not to call me that," Yata said, under his breath. Fushimi raised an eyebrow.

"I thought it was clear that I didn't care . . . Mi-sa -"

"Would you stop!" Yata cut him off. "You almost died!" he shouted. Fushimi looked back up at the ceiling.

"What do you care," he whispered. Yata's mouth dropped open.

"What?"

Fushimi clicked his tongue. "It doesn't matter. We're done working together anyway, so you can leave now," he said, rolling over, away from Yata.

"Hey!" the other boy shouted. "I wasn't done talking to you. And what do you mean, 'what do you care'?" he asked. He nudged Fushimi's shoulder. "Oi!" Fushimi clicked his tongue again.

"Idiot," he murmured under his breath. Yata scowled.

"Saru, you're so fucking stupid." He leaned over resting his head in his hands. "Of course I care." Fushimi blinked and his shoulders tensed up.

"Oh really?" he said quietly, glaring at the wall. Yata huffed.  
"Really. Why do you think I went to get you? Why do you think I carried you out out of there? Why do you think I asked you to fight alongside me? Why do you think I'm here now?" he shouted, still looking at the floor.

"Guilt," Fushimi hissed. Yata's head shot up. He looked at Fushimi in shock. The Blue Clansman didn't turn around.

"Oi," Yata said softly, brows furrowing. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, not really sure he wanted an answer. Fushimi let out a tired breath.

"You should go," he whispered. His shoulders were still tense. Yata huffed.

"Saru, look at me."

"Get out, Misaki."

"What for, Saruhiko?" he snapped. "You don't want me here?" he shouted. "Too bad!" Yata crossed his arms. "I don't care what you say. I'm not leaving until you explain to me. I told you," he paused. Then he lowered his voice. "I told you I was an idiot. You have to explain things to me," he said, staring at the floor. Fushimi clicked his tongue and let out another sigh.

"Idiot."

Yata didn't say anything. He waited, staring at the floor. A minute went by, and he started to get impatient. He tapped his foot a few times, and for a second he was afraid that Fushimi had fallen asleep. He looked up. Fushimi was still facing away from him, but he'd relaxed, his back loose, his shoulders no longer tense like they had been.

Yata scoffed. Of course he'd fallen asleep. Stupid Saru.

"I don't know . . ." Fushimi whispered. Yata's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything. "I don't know why you'd feel guilty. Tsk. You may not even know why, but you don't have to stay." He sniffed, and Yata tried to hold his tongue. He knew if he started Fushimi would retreat again and close himself off. "It's not your fault I got hurt. It's not your fault I left HOMRA. It's . . ." he trailed off again. "You don't have to worry about me," he finished quietly and Yata blinked. Then he scowled.

Yata grabbed Fushimi's shoulder and yanked him onto his back. Fushimi turned his head to stare at Yata, shocked at the sudden movement. Yata's finger tightened on Fushimi's shoulders.

Fushimi looked up at him, completely taken aback. Yata's eyes were hidden by the brim of his hat, and he was shaking.

"Wha -"

"Don't," Yata snarled. He wiped at his eyes with his free hand. "Don't say things like that," he choked out. Fushimi blinked, lost. Yata lifted his head, and Fushimi winced. Yata was trying not to cry, but his lip was trembling, and his eyes were watering. "I'm your friend, aren't I?" he asked.

Fushimi wasn't sure what to say. He took in a few shallow breaths and then nodded. It was Yata's turn to stare, but then he returned the nod. "That's what I thought," he said, his voice already returning to its usual strength. "So don't you go telling me not to worry about you!" he shouted. Fushimi tried not to wince at the pressure on his shoulder. "Stupid Saru," Yata muttered.

"Misaki," Fushimi whispered. Yata glared at him.

"Ah?" he snarled. Fushimi blinked and looked away.

"Why?"

Yata finally let go of Fushimi's shoulders and crossed his arms. "Again, what do you mean, why? I don't get you Saru." Fushimi clicked his tongue, but it was half-hearted. He was looking at the wall.

"Why are we still friends after I . . ." Fushimi blinked and then scowled. "Nevermind." Yata let out an exasperated sigh.

"I thought we were through with this," he shouted. "We're friends! That's why I care about you, okay? What more do you want?"

"Nothing," Fushimi hissed. "I just . . .". He closed his eyes. "I'm a traitor." He had said the words so quietly that Yata scarcely heard him.

"Oi," Yata breathed out.

"I'm a traitor," Fushimi whispered again, and then he brought his hands up to his face, covering his eyes. Yata could still see the trails of wet streaking down Fushimi's cheeks. "I'm a traitor." Yata could hear him crying now, and his shoulders were shaking softly.

"Saruhiko," he said quietly, leaning down. He pulled Fushimi's hands away and stared into Fushimi's eyes. They were wide and wet, and blue. "Shut up," he said, and leaned closer, letting his lips brush against Fushimi's. He pressed their foreheads together. Fushimi's eyes were still wide, and Yata brushed his fingers over Fushimi's cheeks, wiping away the remnants of his tears. "Just shut up."

Yata pulled away and sat down beside the cot, and the distance between them was too large, but it was getting hard to breath. He looked sideways at the floor. "Alright?" he said, slightly exasperated. "You don't have to say that. I . . . I don't care." Yata was blushing, his cheeks tinted pink. "I don't care about that anymore." He rubbed at the back of his head. "Just . . .". He mumbled something else, and Fushimi turned his head to study the other boy.

"You just what?" he asked, hesitantly. His fingers were curved, gripping the sheets on the cot. Yata looked up, still blushing.

"I love you," he said in a short burst. "You have a problem with that?" he asked, his chest puffing out. Fushimi huffed a small laugh and then turned his gaze back to the ceiling.

"Really?"

"Of course! I wouldn't . . ." Yata paused, "I wouldn't lie to you about that."

Fushimi sighed. "You really are an idiot."

"I am not! You're the one who doesn't get anything!" Yata yelled. "I mean, how many times have I had to say that I care about you! You stupid -" Yata's shouting fell short. Fushimi was smiling at him. Genuinely smiling, lips curving up softly, eyes regarding him in a way that Yata had never seen before. "What?"

Fushimi shook his head, eyes falling shut. "I love you too," he whispered. There was a moment of silence, and then Yata's face lit up.

"I knew it!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. Fushimi clicked his tongue, and rolled over.

"No you didn't." He was smirking. "You had no clue. Now be quiet, I'm going to bed." Yata was still grinning like an idiot. He couldn't have stopped if he wanted to.

"You love me!"

Fushimi sighed. "Yes, I also believe I asked you to be quiet."

"Yeah, but you like, you actually love me, and you said it!" he yelled, unable to contain himself. Again, Fushimi sighed, growing irritated.

"I know what I said. Now be quiet or leave, I'm tired and you're too noisy!" he said, voice rising. Yata blinked and looked down at the Blue Clansman, who was curled on his side, eyes shut tight.

"Oh, yeah," he said, nodding. He sank down into the seat beside the cot and leaned forward. He watched as the other boy's breathing evened out and then allowed himself to smile again. He reached a hand out and let it trail through Fushimi's hair.

"Saruhiko," he said softly.

"Mmh?" came a muffled response.

"I love you."

Fushimi only sighed, but Yata didn't care. He was safe, and he'd said it back. They would probably argue again tomorrow, but for now . . . Yata pressed a kiss onto Fushimi's forehead. For now, he would let him sleep.


End file.
